


Stars

by GStK



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A writer's system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the first novel (Sekitani Jun arc). Light mystery.

A system of stars reaches for him, tugs him forward by his sleeves, and Oreki is startled. It takes him a while before he realises that it is not a bundle of stars at all, but a person. Her eyes shine with deceptive innocence and a depth no one could ever think to fathom.

Her name is Chitanda Eru, and she is the niece of time.

* * *

English; maths; history; Japanese. No matter what subject she takes, Chitanda is at the top of her class, one of the top ten in their nestled little school. _That's just like Chitanda-san_! the clockwork people say, winding up after each class ranking is posted to give their canned congratulations.

Not once does she fail to say “thank you.” She is amazing, but she is not blinded by her own brilliance.

Oreki, 175th  out of a school of 350, stands on a pedestal far lower than hers. He could never hope to understand what it's like to be as high up as her – and he would never want to.

“Amazing, Chi-chan!” Ibara gasps, when they're all discussing their class rankings after school. She swipes away her friend's modest deflections and grips her hands, smiling wide. “You're always so smart. I don't know how you do it!” And she sighs, ducking her head to the side. “Even though I studied, I'm still only 27th...”

“Ah, well. If you studied harder, Mayaka, maybe you could do as well as Chitanda-san!” That's all it takes for Ibara to set on Satoshi: the week before, he'd cheerfully admitted to sacrificing studying to read up on Buddhist practices in India. At 239, his slacking shows, and Ibara has not been happy.

Chitanda looks away from the tussling and sets her sights on Oreki. He looks back at her, bored. “Where did you place, Oreki-san? I couldn't find your name on the list...” And, he almost feels incredulous when he notices she sounds worried.

Satoshi pipes up with a genial, “That's because you didn't look low enough!” The curve of his mouth is wheedling, and it's almost like he thinks this is funny. “Houtarou was smack dab in the middle. It's always been like that: I almost never even check any more.”

“ _Oreki_ 's the one who should be studying, not me,” Ibara adds in, and Oreki gets the distinct impression that he's being piled up on. “He's way too lazy! But even if he did study,” she smirks, “He probably wouldn't get anywhere.”

“Who knows? Actually, if Houtarou studied, he might even do better than you, Mayaka.”

“Now you're just being mean!”

That's all it takes for them to sink back into their little argument. Chitanda doesn't seem to mind; she's still looking at Oreki. He's starting to get uncomfortable.

“Oreki-san,” she says seriously. She balls her hands into fists, in that way she does when she's determined. “I'm sure you'll do better next time!”

She is, of course, a train of valiant sympathy. “Maybe,” Oreki answers noncommittally. After a pause, he adds in an obligated, “Congratulations.”

He's not happy for her like Ibara is; he's never felt that excited. He's not proud of her like Satoshi is, either, because pride has never really scraped against his insides. His words are neutral, without feeling, like the greetings old-and-severed friends send to each other in New Year's cards.

But Chitanda's eyes gets so big, and she smiles so wide. She takes her words with the heart he didn't put in them. She is so, so happy, and she shines.

“Thank you, Oreki-san!”

It's like getting dropped in the Big Dipper, a sea of stars to drag him down.

* * *

Ice cream. _I scream_. Chitanda cries at those words, but her tears are not of sadness – they are of relief. She attends her uncle's funeral without regrets, and settling his memory is the same to her as settling his soul.

She leaves the grave attendance partway through to run back to the clubroom, something new shining in her eyes. She grabs for his hand, and they're almost out the door before he even knows what's going on.

She is smart, but in a different way, he thinks. She is top of her class in English, but no light came into her eyes until he explained _Hyouka's_ title to her himself.

She is a queen, in some respects. She has been nestled in a blanket of protection, of luxury, of natural genius for the last 16 years of her life. But she's peeking beyond the edges, staring up into space, and wondering more than she ever has.

He lets her grab his hands as she reaches out and begins to tug herself free.

* * *

They take a summer trip for the Classics Club, one that brings them to a quiet village in the corners of rural Japan. One of the club's earliest anthologies covered the works of a renowned author, known first for his stories of modern conflict, and then again for his poignant Zen haiku. _Ah, that's just like Chitanda-san_! Satoshi might say, if he knew that it was her family that arranged an interview with the man's niece.

That's exactly what he says, when he finds out later. His words trace patterns in the air that are both familiar and empty.

“So the author's Mochida Kensuke,” Ibara repeats when they're at the inn, her face buried in _Hyouka_ , volume 8. “And he passed away a couple years ago, and now Tanaka Ueko, his niece, answers everybody's questions about him. And we're going to see her tomorrow.” She looks up. “Right?”

“Yes!” Chitanda answers, pinning her hair up delicately. Ever since they decided to gather in the boys' room, she's been seated _seiza_ on Satoshi's futon, watching everyone with her big, big eyes. It's obvious she's excited. “When the older members wrote about Mochida-sensei, he wasn't very popular... but he became very famous in the last ten years,” she explains. “I thought it might be a good idea to write about him!”

“It'll be interesting, at least,” Satoshi agrees. When he leans back and bumps shoulders with Oreki, Oreki huffs, and he laughs. It's a big room (the innkeepers are very generous), and yet, he couldn't think of anywhere else to sit. “I was doing some research on this area, actually, and I found out that some botanists here grow a rare type of hydrangea–“

Ibara rolls her eyes. “That again?” She puts the book down and scowls at Satoshi, who grins back. “You talked about that all last week at the library. I'm sick of hearing about it!” But there's a lack of push to her voice, one that makes it obvious how much she enjoyed having Satoshi around.

“Sorry!” he says, and he is not. “But it's almost like this place is in a whole different world, right?” He looks enthused by the prospect and rubs his and Oreki's shoulders together, who mumbles a word of complaint. “How about it, Houtarou? If you lived here, you'd fit right in!”

Oreki's face goes contemplative as he thinks it over. The country is quiet, and people keep to themselves; it almost sounds like heaven. But then he looks to the electric fan in the corner of the room (because the inn has no A/C), and he thinks of how a cicada almost landed in his food at dinner, and his face screws up in annoyance.

Satoshi looks delightfully taken aback by his reaction. “Really!? You just can't be happy anywhere, can you?” Ibara chimes in in agreement.

He ignores them both and looks to Chitanda instead. She looks like she's off in her own world, hands still buried in her hair. When she finally notices Oreki staring, she smiles in embarrassment, uttering a soft apology.

Where does she send her thoughts when she's alone, he wonders.

* * *

For all her politeness, Chitanda is not an empathetic person. Raised with the best manners money can afford, anyone would think her polite, but she is not thoughtful. She can't seem to get it through her head that some people don't wonder about everything, and that some things are better left untouched.

A lot of the time, Oreki thinks she lives with eyes wide closed.

* * *

The Mochida house—no, Tanaka now—is small and unassuming, but its traditional beauty could make it a neighbour to Chitanda's mansion. Tanaka-san receives them in the widest room in the house, which must double as a living space, a kitchen, and a room for writing. Books line the short bookshelves on the north wall. On the west, there is a shrine dedicated to an older man (Mochida, probably), with two incense sticks burning before it.

“My uncle would always go on about the Chitanda family. Your father helped him with many of his novels,” she explains, her voice comforting and pleasantly feminine. Tanaka Ueko could've been an idol, had she been twenty years younger; as it is, middle age has welcomed her into graceful beauty.

“Oh, no! We were glad to help! My father always loved receiving a copy of Mochida-sensei's novels,” Chitanda answers, rushing to be modest. “He would read them to me when I was young, and I thought they were beautiful.”

“So did I,” Tanaka-san answers with a nostalgic sigh. “When he still lived in the city—before he got married—he would ask me to look over his manuscripts. His writing was always so...” She pauses to inhale, her shoulders tensing up. “... wonderful.”

They spend some time gushing about Mochida's writings, but when Chitanda moves on to her actual questions, Ibara comes alive. The three women―one older, two young―banter back and forth, and Oreki, for his part, doesn't pay much attention; Satoshi is taking notes, and he's more interested in the papers laying on the open veranda, held down by a worn inkwell.

“-so why do you think he started writing about Zen, Tanaka-san? That was about ten years ago, wasn't it?” Ibara is asking when he comes back to himself, and she leans the slightest bit forward.

Tanaka-san thinks it over for a second before she smiles placatingly. “I think he was at that point in his life,” she says. “He wrote for 30 years about struggle and conflict, but by the time he was 60, I think it had lost its appeal. His health was failing, and...” She shrugs her shoulders. “I can't speak for my uncle, but people that age are always so different from when they're young, aren't they?”

Ibara and Chitanda nod sagely. Satoshi stops writing for a second to look up.

“Tanaka-san,” he addresses, getting the woman's attention. “Isn't that right around when Mochida-sensei's wife passed on?”

“Fuku-chan!” Ibara reprimands, but Tanaka-san laughs lowly, signaling the lack of offence taken.

“It's alright. And, he's right. That was probably another reason why. My uncle always wrote about what he saw or felt, and when my aunt passed away...” she almost lapses into silence, but she's quick to catch the tether of conversation. “Are any of you interested in Zen?”

The conversation continues in that way for another half-hour. It's as Oreki is trying not to yawn that Chitanda finally folds her hands together, bowing her head.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san,” she says gratefully. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us.”

“You don't have to be so formal!” the woman replies with another laugh. “It was my pleasure.”

They get up to leave, each one of them giving their thanks. Oreki works up the motivation to ask as they're almost out the door.

“Tanaka-san.” She's startled; she looks to him with surprise, almost as if she didn't think he had a voice. The others do the same. “You wouldn't happen to still have some of Mochida-sensei's books, would you?”

“Yes?” she says, looking confused.

“Could I ask to borrow a few?” Now everyone looks perplexed; he has to fight not to frown. “I'm- curious.”

“Oreki-san,” Chitanda whispers, awed. Tanaka-san pauses before she nods distractedly, disappearing back into the house. It takes a moment, but she returns quickly, pressing three different books into Oreki's hands. He bows his head in thanks.

Once they've actually left, Satoshi nudges him in the ribs. “This is rare!” He leans back to avoid Oreki trying to elbow him. “The way she looked at you, it was almost like Tanaka-san forgot you were there!”

Ibara beats him to the punch: “He's really forgettable– I mean, usually. That was kind of rude, Oreki. We have copies of his books in the clubroom, you know?”

“I know,” he replies. And that's as far as he goes. Chitanda won't stop looking at him.

Something feels strange.

* * *

For all her distraction, Chitanda is not a cruel person. She puts people in uncomfortable situations more than she should, but she is not mean. Her childlike curiosity is what drives her so much; it's been so ever-present since he's known her that he almost thinks it's essential to who she is.

A lot of the time, Oreki thinks she lives to inspire others.

* * *

“Oreki-san,” Chitanda says that evening, when both Satoshi and Ibara have retired for the night. They sit outside on the veranda, the low hum of the bugs outside their only background noise. “At Tanaka-san's house, you noticed something, didn't you?”

Oreki flicks his eyes over to her, and then back to the book in his hands. The innkeepers have been nice enough to give them a lamp for the evening; they've even started to insist that they stay a few extra days, to really get a feel for what the town has to offer. That must be what rural hospitality is about. “Sort of.”

“What was it?” Chitanda raises her voice to a harsh whisper, demanding in the kindest way. She scoots closer to him, boring holes into the book he's reading. “I'm curious!”

“Uh, it's.” And what does he say to that? He edges away, but she just comes closer. “-I can't say for sure,” he sighs. He hadn't been planning to bother with it, not seriously, but he's given in, and that means that now he won't be able to escape. “But something seemed strange.”

“I thought so too!” The club president finally leans back, giving him room to breathe. “I couldn't place it,” she continues doubtfully, “but it almost seemed like Tanaka-san was hiding something.”

“'Hiding something?'” he repeats sceptically. Chitanda nods in a serious way; it doesn't even seem to occur to her how shady that sounds. “Who knows.”

“Well.” She claps her hands together, and smiles that determined smile of hers. “Let's do our best to figure it out, Oreki-san!”

He really can't escape.

* * *

He finds himself giving in more often, but he also finds

he doesn't really mind.

* * *

“Chitanda,” he calls her over the next evening, after a hot and muggy day spent outside. “How do you read this word?”

Chitanda pores over the book when he passes it to her, face scrunching up. But her expression is quick to clear. “Ah! This is an older word for _creek_ , Oreki-san. Today, we read it as _patient_ , but it's being used differently here. I wonder why?”

“Is that that one of the books you borrowed from Tanaka-san?” Ibara asks curiously, peering over at them. “The Zen one, right?”

When Oreki nods, Satoshi sees fit to butt in. “He's probably talking about the creek at the edge of town. It's actually really famous among poets. I read about it in a poetry collection the other day...”

“Since when do you like poetry?” Satoshi has nothing to say to that; he just shrugs his shoulders. “-thanks,” Oreki says to Chitanda when she gives the book back. “But, Chitanda.”

“Yes?”

“When did Mochida move out here?”

Chitanda presses her fingers together. “Six... no, five? I believe it was five years ago.” Her expression grows nostalgic. “We came out to visit him when he was all settled. I remember wishing I could live here, too.”

“It really is amazing, isn't it?” Ibara agrees. “The library was perfect! They didn't have a lot, but they had so many books I'd never even heard of.”

They're quick to wind themselves up in conversation, leaving Oreki to look back over the book. He feels Satoshi's eyes on him, but he doesn't look back up.

He thinks...

* * *

One day, he discovers that he doesn't regret the energy Chitanda made him waste solving another one of her strange mysteries. It involved popsicles, snow, and a 1977 enka performance, and by the end of the day, they had almost nothing to show for it.

That's the day he starts to question himself. But it's also the day that he almost starts having fun.

* * *

It goes like this:

Two incense sticks, one portrait. Fluttering papers and a used inkwell. Odd wording, a creek, and a heel-face-turn that doesn't add up. “He always wrote about what he saw.” Zen and conflict.

Chitanda's curiosity squeezing its hands around his heart.

* * *

Tanaka-san stares at the four of them, and she looks tired, much too tired. There's a long pause, and finally, she runs a hand through her hair and exhales. “You're not wrong.”

He's right.

What he'd predicted: Mochida Kesuke was a struggling writer for 30 years. Inspired by the conflict of his teenage years, he wrote about themes of protest and violence for most of his career. But the revolutionary spirit did not stay with his peers, or even with their sons and daughters; the economic bubble brought peace, and so his themes were thought to be “hackneyed” and “old-fashioned.”

Only two people really loved Mochida's writing – his wife, and his niece, who moved from here to the city to be with her uncle. When his wife died, so did Mochida's love of writing; he gave up. But there was only one person who couldn't accept this, and that was his niece.

Tanaka Ueko did not want to see her uncle's writing die; she had loved his writing since she was little, even if no one else really could. And she wanted people to see that. So what she did was,

She wrote for him.

Having never known real conflict, Mochida's niece wrote about what she did know instead: Zen and peace, ideals ingrained in her by her upbringing. She published her first book, Mochida's twelfth, ten years ago. It was an instant hit. Mochida's failing health meant he never noticed, and no one tried to impinge on an old, sick man.

She wrote four books before he passed away two years ago.

And then?

“I enjoyed it,” Tanaka-san confesses, casting her eyes to the side. “Writing for my uncle. I studied his writing over and over, to try and get it perfect... it was like I was becoming him, in a way, when I wrote. And people loved it.” She smiles bitterly. “In the end, I don't know if they loved my writing, or his. But I like to think that, if he had just written about something different... he could've been famous, while he still wanted to be. It wouldn't be right if he passed away and no one knew of his works.

“-so?” she continues, and there's a sudden defeated, sad light in her eyes. “Is that what you plan to write about?”

Tension strikes a chord in the air, and all of them stay silent. After a long moment, it is Chitanda who finally raises her voice, rising to her position as club president.

“The Kamiyama High School Classics Club,” she murmurs, “Will write about Mochida-sensei's talent, and how all of his themes are important.”

Tanaka-san stares at her, surprised. And when she smiles, if she looks on the verge of tears, none of them say anything.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Thank you, Oreki-san,” Chitanda says, when all four of them are outside, enjoying the evening view. Satoshi and Ibara are a ways away, playing with the innkeepers' son and daughter.

He lingers with her, giving her a strange look. “For what?”

“For helping me understand!”

“I didn't do anything,” Oreki shrugs off. “It was just luck.”

Chitanda just smiles at him, a kind expression that says she doesn't really believe him. But she doesn't say that. She says, “Then. For being curious?”

He gives an incredulous huff. “I wasn't.”

“You were, though,” Satoshi chimes in, grinning when Oreki fixes him with a look of betrayal. “We all heard it. It was really unlike you! I was almost– ah!”

He's interrupted by a bright light whisking overhead, a shooting star. The innkeepers' kids gasp delightedly, and Ibara urges them to make a wish, and fast. Chitanda laughs behind one of her hands, moving to join the children.

It's gone in a flash, but it leaves an impression on all of them.

"You know, shooting stars aren't stars, but meteorites.” Satoshi looks smug at knowing this bit of information; Oreki just rolls his eyes. “You can't ever see them where we live, though. Houtarou. D'you think if we come back, we'll get to see another?”

Oreki turns away, looking at Chitanda. After a moment, he answers: "Yeah.”

Maybe.

But maybe they already have.

**Author's Note:**

> There's not many stories dedicated to Chitanda's place in the Classics Club. I wanted to fix that.


End file.
